


Acknowledged

by EclipseMidnight (EternalEclipse)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, FIx It, Gen, Obi-Wan Kenobi-centric, So Let's Fix It, talking past each other, the council scene in tpm is shitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalEclipse/pseuds/EclipseMidnight
Summary: Qui-Gon had called his padawan competent, and the Council agreed.Or, the one where Obi-Wan takes the Trials instead of going to Naboo, learns a bit about how to be free, and spends most of his spare time at the creche.





	Acknowledged

Obi-Wan could barely hear the Council’s words over the white noise roaring in his ears. He tried and failed to push away the acute pain caused by Qui-Gon either forgetting about him or actively trying to shove him aside to take Anakin as his apprentice, a pain that clung to him by the dint of the overwhelming lack of surprise that accompanied it. It had felt like another person had stepped up to confirm his readiness to take the Trials after Qui-Gon’s lukewarm recommendation, and then gotten rebuffed. They were saying something about the Senate, or maybe the Chancellor, he wasn’t quite sure.

He forced himself to pay attention, because apparently he would have to do better (if he was even still a padawan at this point) in order to convince the Council of his worthiness. He would complete this mission, to Naboo it seemed, as if this had never happened, as a proper Jedi should.

On instinct he bowed and turned when Yoda dismissed them, walking quickly away in hopes of avoiding any conversation with his Master after his display, but halted in his tracks when Master Windu called after them, “Padawan Kenobi, please remain behind for a moment.”

Obi-Wan forced his head to remain high as he turned around. “Yes, Master?”

Windu tried to meet his eyes, but Obi-Wan was decidedly staring over his head. “You will not be accompanying Master Jinn to Naboo. Please see Quartermaster Sa-Toin for an assignment to temporary quarters.”

Obi-Wan struggled, before folding slightly under the wave of grief that hit him. For all that they had just claimed him as a padawan of the Order, Qui-Gon had rejected him, and he was sure they were going to kick him out once the details were figured out. It wasn’t as if anyone had a choice anymore: he had already lost his place here. Besides, they had never liked him for the same reasons they had rejected Anakin--he was too emotional, he was older--and without Qui-Gon he would have been relegated to a dusty job in the Agricorps, probably doing grunt work given his dearth of sensitivity to the Living Force. He had held onto his place in the Order by the edges of his fingertips, and then by sheer luck after Melida/Daan, but without Qui-Gon to defend him it was finally gone.

“Yes, Master.” He barely kept his voice from cracking. “How long--” He couldn’t force the rest of the question out. How long should I plan on staying? How long can I stay?

Windu gentled his tone when he spoke next. “Because you are just coming off a strenuous mission, take some leave. The day after Master Jinn leaves, report back here to begin the traditional pre-Trials meditations.” As Obi-Wan blinked his surprise, Windu let out a rare smile. “We keep our own counsel on who we believe is ready, and we have been awaiting Master Jinn’s recommendation for some time now.”

“The Trials---But Masters, what about Naboo?” Obi-Wan asked. It was the only excuse he could think of. The surprise had overcome all other emotions for a moment, and he had used that to push all the rest aside to deal with in meditations later. Even so, him, take the Trials? Of course he had been hoping that he would be ready soon, but his Master had never seemed to think so, and that was that. He had started to become certain that he would never be good enough to become a Knight, visions aside.

“Going with Master Jinn to Naboo one of the Council will be, to confirm the involvement of the Sith,” Yoda said. “May the force be with you.”

Obi-Wan bowed, turned, and followed his former Master and the boy out of the room to the nearest lifts. Qui-Gon tried to say something, but Obi-Wan’s lift came before he managed to speak. He patted Anakin on the shoulder, tried to smile at him, and stepped away from the man who had once again broken his heart, moving towards what he still couldn’t quite believe might be his future.

\------------------

It took him sixteen minutes to get to the Quartermasters’ offices, between the five stops the first lift had made and the need to transfer. On the outside, he was utterly calm as he walked up to the counter, having pushed aside his tangled emotions until he could find time to meditate. He rang the bell at the empty desk, and heard a crash and shouted expletive from somewhere to the left behind the wall. In short order a young Icarii padawan appeared from under the desk. She gave Obi-Wan a once-over, and grunted “Whaddya want?”

“Hello,” Obi-Wan replied. “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. I was told to ask Quartermaster Sa-Toin for an assignment to temporary quarters.”

The Icarii pointed at a door to the left. “Sa-Toin’s in there, g’bye.” 

When Obi-Wan looked back, the other padawan had already turned back to her work. He took a breath and went in through the door. It had been been a while since he had been here, and he didn’t quite remember whose office was whose. He didn’t remember Sa-Toin at all, for that matter, having spent most of his time under the tender mercies of Ygrinnthalim, a crotchety Ugnaught who had died five years before at the ripe old age of two hundred and nine. 

Finally spotting a nameplate reading “K. Sa-Toin”, he knocked and was quickly bid to enter. “Hello Master,” Obi-Wan said.

The quartermaster looked up from the screens on his desk. “Quartermaster,” he said kindly. “I’m no Jedi, young Padawan. Now, why have you come to the dragon’s hoard?”

Obi-Wan had to stifle a laugh at the description of the storage floors, surprising himself. He hadn’t thought he was capable of laughter at the present moment. “I’m Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Council told me to check with you for temporary quarters.” 

“Temporary quarters? Let me check. Species? Got a master coming with you?”

“Baseline human will do, Quartermaster, and I will be staying there alone.” Obi-Wan felt his chest twinge at that statement.

“Hmmm, well. There’s three I could give you, all small since you’re only one person and a Padawan. One’s in the upper levels of Cherek, another’s in upper Dorn, and the last is in mid-Mern, if you’re scared of heights. Do you have a preference?”

Obi-Wan thought it through for a moment. Qui-Gon’s quarters were in Osk, which was next to Mern. He told himself he wasn’t avoiding his former Master as he ruled out that one. Many of the Healers that stayed in-Temple lived in Dorn, but Bant had opted to stay near her second Master in Qek, which was on the other side of Osk from Mern, and he had enough trouble avoiding the Halls of Healing without living right next to Healers. “Cherek please, Quartermaster.”

“So polite,” the Tholothian’s blue eyes twinkled. “I’ll even throw in a decent set of dishware and a caf maker--or would you prefer a kettle?”

“The kettle please,” Obi-Wan requested.

“Good. So you’ll be in Cherek OJ70. If you’ll come with me, I’ll find you some of the basics.”

Sa-Toin led him to a storage room he recognized. Obi-Wan picked up a set of bedding as Sa-Toin went over to the dishware section. He came back with a pretty purple-edged set of plates, bowls, and cups, a mostly-matched set of metal cutlery, and a slightly battered kettle. Obi-Wan wrapped them all in the bedding. “Thank you, Quartermaster,” he said quietly.

“Of course, Padawan.” The man replied.

Obi-Wan left, making his way over to the far lifts. Cherek would have a decent view if he was lucky enough to get an outward facing room, and it was far from Osk without being overly inconvenient to himself. It was supposed to be temporary, but he didn’t know how long he would be staying there, so he may as well be prepared for a longer stay.

He knew the way to the residential area, but he had never been to this part of the Temple before. None of his friends had lived near here, and both the initiate dorms and Qui-Gon’s rooms were in very different areas of the temple. He lost himself in the hallways for a quarter hour before figuring out the system for ordering the rooms. He made a mental note to himself that he had to brush up on written High Galactic, suspecting that he may have ended up in an Educorps wing. 

When he finally found his rooms, he had no greater wish than to go to sleep. It was early but the day had been emotionally exhausting, and tomorrow promised to be no better. The room opened to his key, and he quickly inputted his handprint into the system, as well as a passcode. Without realizing it, he first entered the passcode for the rooms he had shared with his master, before shaking his head and choosing something else. He wasn’t going to make it quite that simple for unwanted guests to get in.

His fingers were clumsy as he put the dishware in a cupboard, the cutlery in a drawer, and the kettle on the stove. Trying to get his sheets on the bed was even worse. He almost gave up, but he was too tired to meditate, and almost desperately wanted to sleep in an actual bed for the first time in six weeks. Setting an early alarm, Obi-Wan drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

It wasn’t the alarm that woke him in the early morning. It took him a moment to recognize the repetitive noise as someone knocking on his door. Stifling a groan, Obi-Wan threw his robe over his sleep pants as he padded to the viewport by the door. He was not ready to deal with his former Master yet. 

Thankfully, it was a droid carrying white Knight-Candidate robes. After a short exchange with the unusually brusque droid, Obi-Wan picked up the robes and carried them inside, placing them on the couch that was opposite the kitchen. By tradition, he had the right to wear the robes from the moment the Council declared him ready to take the Trials through the moment he passed or failed, but he wasn’t required to wear them until the Meditations began. After a moment, Obi-Wan brought them to the bedroom and shoved them in a drawer. They may be his for the next few days, but it didn’t feel right to wear them. 

Just as it felt wrong to be taking the Trials. His Master hadn’t thought him ready, and though he had considered the idea, he had always believed he had a ways to go before he was ready. He had grown from the easily provoked initiate who was thought to be too angry to become a good Padawan. He knew how to keep an outward calm, but his emotions had never left them the way that the Jedi Code said they ought to be. They were forever writ large in his heart. 

The Council might even know that he still struggled there. Given the number of times he had ended up explaining himself, and often Master Qui-Gon as well, to them, they had to have some idea. Master Qui-Gon’s reputation as a rogue or status as the former Master of Xanatos du Crion couldn’t account for some of their missions, such as the disaster that was Melida/Daan. He got attached easily, and was slow to give up those attachments, and that had caused so many problems over the years.

Then Obi-Wan considered that part of these feelings of inadequacy were coming from his attachment to his Master. Of course, they would have to be. His Recommendation would be forever twined with the memory of his Master pushing him aside for a padawan he actually wanted at his side. His feelings were hopelessly muddled. If he was unready enough to need his Master, his Master would not have abandoned him; he wasn’t good enough, he should have expected this to have happened, and only been surprised it hadn’t happened sooner; his Master had finally given up on his ever becoming a good Jedi, for all that his definition of such was different than the Council’s, and that Obi-Wan didn’t really fit either.

The memories of the entire Council meeting still had a vague feeling of unreality associated with them, but that was fading fast, and he was already beginning to feel the full force of the emotional rollercoaster it was. Feeling the need to meditate return urgently, Obi-Wan decided to skip breakfast and head to one of the Meditation Gardens. He would have to talk to Qui-Gon Jinn today, but he definitely needed to mediate first.

While walking to one of the more disused gardens, Obi-Wan decided that he should also check in on the boy. The doings of his Master was hardly the boy’s fault, and he must be feeling superbly out of place on Coruscant after having grown up on Tatooine. 

It wasn’t long until he found the overgrown garden he used to escape to with Garen and Reeft when they were initiates. Bant had usually avoided this garden for the sole reason of it not having a fountain or being close to any other source of water than the irrigation system that was present in any of the gardens, so it had been the younger boys’ hiding spot. It didn’t look like either of them had been there recently, which made sense. Garen had possibly spent less time on Coruscant than Obi-Wan since he became a padawan, and Reeft had been on a long-term assignment somewhere around the Kessel Sector. They had hoped to catch up when he got back, which should take a few more weeks.

They had hidden a few gardening tools by their favorite Hyywah tree, and Obi-Wan searched for them by the roots. They were a little worse for the wear, but still serviceable. He let himself sink into a half-trance as he began to weed the ground by the berry bushes. 

He abruptly came out of the trance several hours later when his stomach grumbled strongly. He was reminded that he had skipped breakfast, and had been on short rations for days before that, since the Nubian vessel hadn’t been stocked for longer trips. His single set of working robes were covered in dirt, but his mind was marginally more at peace. Yes, his master had forgotten him, but it was not done maliciously; he was just treating Obi-Wan as a constant in his life as he turned his efforts to the “pathetic lifeform” that would need his help more. It hurt, but he had seen his master do similar things before. He had even been the one that took the fall for his master’s stubborn absentmindedness more than once. Master Qui-Gon would come to his senses at some point and realize what he had done, and try to quietly and often backwardly make amends as he tended to do. The only question was if he would be there to receive that apology.

It was tradition for new Knights to be assigned to a ship and for them to not return to the Temple for at least a year and a day, barring emergencies. If he passed the Trials, he might have already left the Temple by the time that Master Qui-Gon returned from Naboo. 

Obi-Wan forcefully pulled his mind into the present, and away from thoughts of his master as he walked into the main refectory. It was barely half-full; it was a tad late for breakfast, but there were still late-risers trickling in. He took a portion of cooked oats and stirred pieces of dried blumfruit into it, both of which were likely remnants from the initiates’ breakfasts and brought to mind pleasant days spent with his friends. Seeing no one he knew, he took a seat by the end of one of the emptier tables. He thought he would visit the youngest in the creche. Their needs were simple and fulfilling them meant smiles and happiness. He liked to visit them after long missions; it was good to feel that there was some good feeling in the world when so much of it was dark and dreary.

He finished his meal and dealt with the remains. Although he recognized that he was avoiding his master and that that couldn’t go on forever, he also knew that he needed to be at his best for that conversation. He would spend a few hours with the crechelings before looking for Master Qui-Gon or the boy they had brought from Tatooine. 

He didn’t remember walking the familiar path to the creche, and only came back to himself when a pair of younglings attached themselves to his legs fifty feet away from the main entrance. Catching himself against the wall to keep from falling entirely, he twisted to see the giggling children behind him. “What have we here, younglings?”

“Hiding, Padawan Obi!” the one on his right said. “Meimei thinks we’re going to hide by Master Kessim, so if we hide by you instead they won’t find us!”

“Oh, alright,” Obi-Wan faked a dramatic sigh and lifted up the edges of his robe so that the younglings could hide under it. He signed in, purposefully ignoring the giggling originating behind his knees, and, not seeing Crechemaster Kessim, angled for the portion of the playroom that Crechemaster Dora usually reigned over. 

Crechemaster Plythana Doregrranistalo was a very short human, just over a meter tall, and as such was often difficult to see amongst the younglings. She had been new to the creche when he was a youngling, and was nicknamed “Dora” because most of the initiates couldn’t pronounce her name. She was also one of the best-loved crechemasters amongst his yearmates. That hadn’t changed, from what he could sense. 

True to form, she looked up at Obi-Wan as he approached, smiling. “Hello, Obi-Wan. I’m glad to see you, and in good health this time. The Wampa clan is excited to see you again, and will be doing midday meditations soon if you would like to join them.”

“Of course, Dora.” Obi-Wan bowed. “You had warning that I was coming?”

“The Force provides, if only you ask” Dora chided him gently. The children behind Obi-Wan giggled, and she looked down. “Oh, what have we here?”

Obi-Wan grinned sunnily at her, pleased at how natural the expression felt. “Nothing at all, Master! I shall go look for Wampa clan now.” He turned to leave, and felt the younglings detach from him and quickly hide behind the crechemaster, still giggling. 

“Hi Master Dora!” the shorter child said, peeking out from under Dora’s robe. “We’re hiding from Meimei. Can we hide by you?”

“Of course, Hella, as long as you go back to your peers in Hawkbat Clan in time for your meal, which I believe is in another half hour.”

“Thanks Master Dora!” The other child piped up. “And thanks Obi!”

“You’re very welcome, youngling,” Obi-Wan replied. He bowed and excused himself, already feeling more relaxed than he had after his breakfast. These children didn’t know or care about his failures and shortcomings, and accepted him anyway, and he knew that they always would even when the rest of the temple looked down on him.

He passed by Crechemaster Kessim on his way to finding the crechemaster for the Wampa clan. Kessim waved him over and gave him a datachip with the creche schedule; the Wampa clan had just left for the Room of a Thousand Fountains. 

The rest of the day passed quickly. After spending an hour trying to keep his dozen six year olds sitting still and attempting to meditate, Obi-Wan joined them for lunch, and then joined in the antics of a competitive game of push-pull between the groups made of members of the Clawmouse and Boma clans. They were older, and the few members that hadn’t already would soon move from the creche to the initiate dorms, ready to be chosen as padawans.

After late-meal, he bade the crechelings goodbye and set course for his Master’s quarters in Osk. Even though he had closed down his side of their training bond, it was still strong enough for him to sense his Master’s presence. Presumably he had been busy dealing with the boy and preparations to go back to Naboo, and just had been too busy to track Obi-Wan down. Or, perhaps, he hadn’t even thought of his missing padawan, another thought niggled. Obi-Wan screwed his eyes shut at the thought, and put up his hood as he continued to the lift that would take him where he wanted to go.

As much as he wanted to tell himself that that wasn’t the case, he had never quite shook the feeling of being unwelcome in his Master’s life, and his insecurities had come back to plague him.

He stood at the door for a minute, and then several, without ringing the bell. His Master had surely felt his presence, but hadn’t come to let him in. He didn’t have to ring the bell; he doubted that his access would have been revoked already. Even so, if this was not to be his home any longer, he wasn’t sure he had the right to walk in like it was. In the end, he rang the bell, and the chime felt like it was ringing the end of his apprenticeship. 

The door opened only seconds later, confirming Obi-Wan’s suspicion that his master was waiting for him to act. They stared at each other for a heartbeat before Qui-Gon spoke. “Obi-Wan,” he murmured. “Would you come in?”

“Yes---uh, thank you.” Obi-Wan stammered. He felt his hands get sweaty. Pull yourself together, idiot, he chided himself. Let go of your nervousness, or you’ll only kriff this up worse. 

Easier said than done, his subconscious replied, as he pushed down the emotions he could to meditate on later. He followed Qui-Gon to the kitchenette, standing awkwardly. This had been his own home, but he felt like a guest. It was a strange sensation, one that gnawed at him. 

Qui-Gon gestured for him to sit at the pockmarked table that was shoved into the corner of the space. “Sit, I had the kettle boiling just before you got here. There should be enough water for both of us, if you don’t mind doxxen tea. I haven’t been able to secure a supply of sapir since we returned to the Temple.”

“And with you leaving so soon, I suppose you don’t have the time to search the lower levels for a new supplier,” Obi-Wan mused. He reminded himself that he would have to try the usual suppliers, if he passed his Trials. His master hummed in agreement, before going back to the kettle, which had begun to whistle loudly. He was off-balanced, and trying not to let himself be. They both knew why he had come, and it certainly wasn’t to talk about tea, but somehow he couldn’t bring the subject around to Tatooine, or what had occurred in the Council’s chambers after their return.

He had somewhat collected himself by the time his master had come back with the steeping tea, passing one cup to him. He placed it on the table; it was not yet ready to be drunk. “Master,” Obi-Wan began, and then stopped. He was highly aware of Qui-Gon’s gaze on him. “Master,” he choked on the word, “why did--what--”

“Yes, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon said gently. 

“Why did you say the things you did to the Council?” Obi-Wan burst out, barely holding his emotions away from the blocked bond.

Qui-Gon sighed gustily and took Obi-Wan’s smaller hands in his. “Padawan--” He began, and stopped, seeing Obi-Wan wince. “Obi-Wan, you have felt the boy in the Force. You took his midichlorian count. Can you not see that he is extraordinary?”

Obi-Wan clenched his hands, pulling them away. He busied them with his now-steeped tea. He took a sip, but only felt cold. It may have sharpened him, but it made this home of his a battlefield. “You are aware of how widely midichlorian counts fluctuate during certain stages of development, and how those tend to come late for desert-dwellers. He has enough that had he been found earlier he would have become a Jedi, but there is no telling how accurate the inflated counts are. He shines in the Force, that is true, but there is good reason why the main Temple does not take initiates older than the species-equivalent of the human age four with any regularity, and almost never older than six-equivalent if they have no outside training.”

“Obi-Wan---”

“And I will not hear from you anything about breaking rules, especially ones that were put in place for a reason.”

“Obi-Wan, he is too powerful to be left alone,” Qui-Gon continued in an implacable tone. 

“So send him to the Corps.” Obi-Wan countered. “He would be especially welcome in the Exploracorps, given his affinity for mechanics and languages, especially if his skill in piloting racers follows him to ships. If they had found him--” Obi-Wan caught his voice raising, and consciously lowered it. “If they had found him, they would have taught him enough to keep us all safe, and he would have a profession that would make him happy. He will be dangerous to the Jedi, especially so if he were to enter the Knights Corps. I am certain of that.”

“You dislike him,” remarked Qui-Gon. “And your dislike colors your opinions. Mind yourself, Padawan. I foresee that the boy will become a great Jedi Knight.”

“The boy--you don’t even call him by his name, and you expect so much of him?” Obi-Wan said incredulously. 

“He is the Chosen One, Obi-Wan, you must believe that.” 

“Chosen by whom? By you?” Obi-Wan snapped back, finally losing the thread of his temper. He grabbed for it, he could not afford to lose it here, though he had decided anyway that he had had enough of this pointless conversation. Qui-Gon would not be swayed, not when he was in such a mood. He knocked back the last remaining sip of his tea and moved for the door. He turned around just as he got there and prepared to say the last of it, the part that had hurt his heart the most, and that he had so much trouble letting go of. “And what of me, Master? What of your current Padawan, who you threw away for contrariness’s sake? Why did you throw me away? I know I would never have been your first choice, but I thought that I had come to be more than a reluctantly allowed burr these last twelve years.”

He choked on the last words, spinning as he tried not to let his tears fall where his Master could see. He felt Qui-Gon’s surprise through the Force, and fled the room. It was a long walk back to his quarters, so Obi-Wan aimed for one of the more secluded gardens instead. 

The garden he had chosen was usually reserved for Masters, but not explicitly, and was not generally frequented by the nocturnal Jedi that were beginning to awaken. He had barely stepped into the garden before he tripped over a root and fell, catching himself on his arms and knees before his head bumped the ground. 

He closed his eyes and felt hot tears leave his eyes. The scrapes he had just gotten from the fall started to burn after a moment, but he paid them no mind. He curled up next to the bush he had tripped over, sobbing into his hands. Some Knight Candidate I make, Obi-Wan thought to himself, not even able to control my emotions. Maybe the Trials will put me out of my misery.

Slowly, he forced himself out of his self pity. He remembered clearly what wallowing in negative emotion did to people, and did not want to lose himself to it. Tahl had once pushed at him to treat himself as if his own life had value, saying that he hadn’t been. At the time he couldn’t see it, but looking back he had remembered almost dying for Qui-Gon several times before he was chosen to be his padawan. No matter what anyone does, Qui-Gon or someone else, I am not worthless, he had repeated back at her, though he hadn’t felt that way then. He still didn’t, sometimes.

She had also pointed out that Qui-Gon was sometimes an idiot. He had laughed uncomfortably, claiming that Qui-Gon was a good Jedi Master. Tahl had told him that he was probably right, but that that also didn’t preclude him sometimes being an idiot. He missed Tahl, and remembered being extremely happy for Bant when she was chosen as her padawan because he knew that Tahl would take good care of his friend, even if he was even slightly jealous of how much Tahl seemed to like having Bant around.

Qui-Gon was his Master, yes, but he would be able to stand without him; he had learned enough. If he had not been able to keep up, he would have ended up left behind on some planet or other. Qui-Gon may not be a willfully mean person, but he was often absent-minded with his padawan and their combined needs. He knew what his master was like when he hyper focused, and so tried to let go of his resentment. It was not the first time he had been caught on the wrong side of it, after all. It wasn’t as if his Master meant to hurt him, he was just not Qui-Gon’s first priority. 

He was a Jedi, not a helpless child. He would soon be out from under his Master’s authority anyway, one way or the other. He could handle things on his own, and maybe doing so would be for the best.

He brushed away his tears and solidified his conviction. Ignoring the prickling feeling of someone watching him, Obi-Wan set course for his small apartment. He should get some sleep before talking to Anakin in the morning. As much as the boy’s presence worried him, Obi-Wan also knew that he couldn’t be left adrift.

\------------------

That night he slept badly, for all that he was exhausted, waking to the artificial dawn. He slid from his bed, groping blindly for the socks that had slipped off his feet in the night. After his morning ablutions, he made his way to the commissary, still blinking in the bright morning light. It was early, but not so early that a spread hadn’t been put out. He grabbed a pair of pastries whose recipes were native to his homeworld as well as scrambled bantha eggs that had been cooked with flavoring herbs. 

The room was mostly empty, and Obi-Wan chose to sit alone. He did not expect to see a council member, let alone the Head of the Order, sit down across from him not five minutes later. Startled but quick to adapt, Obi-Wan moved his tea to the side to make more room for Master Windu’s meal. He still had a day before the preparations for his Trials began; he wondered if they were the reason that Master Windu had sought him out.

“Good morning, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan bowed his head at him briefly.

“Good morning, Kenobi,” he responded, before digging into his morning meal, a pair of boiled eggs and an open faced sandwich of some meat variety Obi-Wan didn’t recognize on sight. “Have you had a restful vacation?”

“Mostly, Master,” Obi-Wan fibbed. He may have enjoyed his time in the creche, but it was hardly restful, and he was still trying to put his disastrous conversation with his master out of his mind.

“Good, good,” Windu replied, cracking his second egg loudly against the table. Obi-Wan flinched; the sound had echoed through the mostly silent commissary like a gong. Windu ignored it, and began to peel away the shell. “I wanted to make sure that you had settled in properly, and to speak about your first mission after your Trials.”

“Isn’t it--Isn’t it a bit soon for that, Master?” Obi-Wan pointed out. “I haven’t passed the Trials yet, after all.”

“Kenobi,” Windu said, “I have every faith that you will be an excellent Jedi Knight. The Trials are important, they are tradition, and they are hardly easy, but if the Council believed you were not fit to pass them yet then you would be going to Naboo.” He tried and failed to catch Obi-Wan’s eyes. “It is not prideful to be able to accurately assess the scope of your abilities, Kenobi.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan demurred. It was a rote response, but Windu hoped he would think over it.

“And now, for your first mission,” he pushed a bit farther, pulling a pair of datachips from a pocket. “One of these has a list of the available ships for you to choose from and some information about each, as well as a list of items for you to argue with the quartermasters over. The other has a list of postings that need to be filled in the next month from our Knight corps. Three different missions that have been selected as being likely fits for you, based on your skillset. You may choose your first mission of any listed for a solo knight, though we hope you keep our recommendations in mind. This is the Council’s Knighting Gift to you.

“After the Trials, there will be a recovery period of one week, at which point you will present and explain to us your choice of vessel and mission. If we approve it, and we usually do, you will leave as soon as it makes sense to afterwards.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan replied evenly. Though it wasn’t widely spoken of, he had known about the Council’s Gift since Quinlan had told him about it when he was Knighted. The words themselves weren’t a ritual, and they couldn’t be since they were translated into as many languages as the different Masters spoke, but the gift was. He wasn’t sure where he would ask to go, but he had an idea of what kind of ship he was hoping to secure for himself. Still...he might ask Anakin if he didn’t go with Master Qui-Gon to Naboo. From what he had heard, the boy was an excellent mechanic. 

“Good.” Windu said, picking up his larger plate. “I find that I am especially hungry this morning. Would you like anything more from the line?”

“No thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan replied politely, before shoving another spoonful of his meal into his mouth. Master Windu left Obi-Wan to stew in his thoughts. It would be rude to leave if the master was expecting to return to him, he rationalized, but his thoughts quickly slipped back to the argument he had had with Qui-Gon.

He was startled back into awareness when Windu sat back down with a small bowl of cooked grain. “Is something wrong, Kenobi?” Windu asked.

“Nothing’s wrong, Master,” Obi-Wan fibbed. “I think I need to meditate, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well then. I hope your meditations prove fruitful.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan bowed and left, datachips tucked securely in an inside pocket of his robe. He would look through them later, but for now he was going to head over to the garden and try to clear his mind. His Trials were soon, and he didn’t want to fail them on account of his emotions getting in the way.

When he reached the garden, he was surprised to see that it was already occupied. Sensing through the Force was always slightly difficult when there were so many living things, but he was almost certain that the flickering presence was a youngling he didn’t recognize.

He could see where small feet had disturbed the dirt. The prints were barefooted and humanoid, and led to the opposite side of the garden from where the tools were hidden. It was only a few moments before he heard the soft sounds of muffled sobbing and saw a set of small, mostly white montrals.

Even though he tried to be quiet, the child looked up as he approached, clearly trying to stifle themself. It was a young Togruta of indeterminate gender, whose lekku barely reached the tops of their shoulders. Obi-Wan tried for a reassuring smile as he sat down close to them. “Hello there,” he said softly.

“Hello, sir--err, Master,” the child mumbled.

“I’m not a Master, little one. I’m Obi-Wan, what is your name?”

“I’m called Seran, Obi-Wan, sir, Seran Bokai.”

“You can just call me Obi-Wan. Now, what happened to you, young Seran?” Obi-Wan coaxed gently.

Seran sniffled again, turning into Obi-Wan’s half embrace. “The other kids were, were, laughing at me ‘cause my lekku are smaller than everyone else’s, and ‘cause they’re green when all the other kids like me here have blue or red. I do not like it here, no one wants to be my friend, and even the other ones that came here before that like the others do not like me. I miss my mama and my sister Pa and my brother Tivin. Why can’t I go home?”

Obi-Wan felt a few tears sting the corner of his eyes as the youngling spoke. He drew the now-sobbing Seran into a hug, wiping his tears and trying to be comforting. It was always hard for children to stop missing their homes, especially if they were old enough to remember where they came from, and being socially ostracized never helped. He had never known any other home than the temple, having been brought to Coruscant before his first birthday, but several of his friends had been old enough to remember when they had come, and he remembered their griefs.

“Shhh, it will be okay, youngling,” Obi-Wan soothed. “It is alright to miss your family, though we hope that you will come to see the Temple as home. I’m sure that you will soon make friends, and that you will become an excellent Jedi one day. Now, would you like to return to the creche? I’m sure the crechemasters are worried about you.”

“Oh--okay, Obi-Wan,” Seran sniffled, grabbing for his hand.

Obi-Wan accepted the proffered hand, and led the youngling out of the garden. “While we walk, would you like to tell me about your family?”

“But, but the cre-cre-nannies telled us not to!” Seran stopped and looked up at Obi-Wan belligerently. “They even maked Orith go in the corner when he telled us about his mama. They sayed that thinking about home ised bad.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Most likely they had been instructed to let go of their home planet and to come to think of their group as a family, but usually the crechemasters made sure that the younglings knew that it was to keep missing home from hurting them. Then again, Seran was young for such a lesson, and his agemates would be as well. He wondered if there had been a specific incident to cause the lesson, but mentally shook the worry off and tried figure out how to phrase the Jedi maxim in a way that Seran would understand.

“Of course thinking about your home isn’t bad, Seran,” Obi-Wan soothed, kneeling down to the youngling’s level. 

“Then why say it ised? 

“Was, youngling, not ised,” Obi-Wan corrected. “And I don’t think they meant it like that. They just didn’t want you to miss your other home too much because they don’t want you to hurt.”

“But that hurted me more,” replied Seran. Tears began to glisten at the corner of his eyes.

“I know, youngling,” Obi-Wan sighed. “Shall we go back to the creche? We can talk to the crechemasters so that they know what happened.”

“Okay, Obi-Wan,” sniffled Seran. He held out his arms, and Obi-Wan picked him up. The boy was surprisingly heavy for a youngling, Obi-Wan thought as he fiddled with his handhold enough to press the button on the lift that would take them to the creche levels.

When the lift came, there was a pair of older initiates inside who paid them little enough attention, though they did press the button for Obi-Wan. Seran had hidden his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, but hadn’t said anything more. 

They left the lift before the softly chattering initiates, and Obi-Wan rubbed Seran’s back as they approached the creche. “We’re here, young one,” he murmured gently. Seran tried to reply, but was cut off by a mighty yawn. “And I think it may be time for a nap,” Obi-Wan continued.

Obi-Wan was intercepted at the door by a somewhat frazzled crechemaster he didn’t recognize. “Oh, good, you’ve found him,” ze sighed, aborting zir movement to take the youngling when Seran clutched more tightly at Obi-Wan’s robe.

“Yes, he was in one of the lesser-used meditation gardens when I found him,” Obi-Wan explained. “Though I think he could use a nap; could you show me where he sleeps, and I can explain afterwards?”

“Of course, Padawan,” ze replied, before turning to lead him to the correct sleeping spaces. Obi-Wan couldn’t unravel his cloak from the youngling’s hands, so he wrapped the boy in it, and followed the crechemaster far enough away that they wouldn’t wake him. Before he left, ze reassured him that he could come by later that day to retrieve his robes.

\------------------

Spending time with the youngling reminded Obi-Wan that there was another child that he should speak with. He opened his force-sense, looking for the blazing presence of the Tatooinian boy. Locating it in the residential levels, he assumed he was in Qui-Gon’s rooms. He couldn’t find Qui-Gon from this distance without risking opening their bond, so he resolved to check again when he got to the residential levels. 

After nearly being waylaid by a group of initiates on the main levels and then a trio of Padawans in the lift, Obi-Wan wished he had had something to put over his head to keep from being accosted. He only had another day until Qui-Gon left, and two until his Trials began. If he didn’t do what he needed to now, he might not see them again for quite some time.

He sensed for Anakin in the Force once he reached the right level, and was gratified to find that he was still there, and that Qui-Gon wasn’t. After the last confrontation they had had, Obi-Wan wasn’t quite feeling up to dealing with his Master. 

He decided to use the sensor to alert Anakin to his presence rather than just use his key-signature to get into the room. He remembered how little privacy slaves had, and there was no need to make the child more uncomfortable than he had to be by appearing to invade his space.

It took a full minute for the door to open. Anakin looked up at him, furrows of concentration sliding off his face to be replaced with surprise and suspicion. “Master Qui-Gon’s not here, Master Obi-Wan.”

“I’m not a Master, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied gently, “and Qui-Gon isn’t in the way you’re used to. However, I’m here to speak with you, not him, if you’re amenable?”

 

Anakin pushed open the door to let Obi-Wan in. Seeing his spare robe still on the hook by the door, Obi-Wan remembered that he hadn’t cleared this place of his possessions. He’d have to do it before he left. He walked back into the familiar kitchenette to find the hidden supply of lightbread, taking several squares to share between him and Anakin. He had a feeling that the conversation ahead wouldn’t be a simple as he hoped.

“Shall we sit?” Obi-Wan asked Anakin, who was standing in the entryway. He was scowling slightly, but did as Obi-Wan suggested. The look would probably be fearsome in a decade, but it was cute on such a rounded, childish face. Sitting down across from Anakin, Obi-Wan passed him a square of the lightbread. “I think you’ll like these.”

“‘Anks Oe-ahn sir,” he said begrudgingly through a mouthful of the treat. “S’good.” Obi-Wan smiled at him from the other side of the table, taking a smaller bite out of his square.

“I’m glad you like it, youngling,” 

“But you don’t like me, and you’re giving me food, so you want something. What is it?” Anakin asked, abruptly swallowing his mouthful.

“When did you get the idea that I disliked you?” Obi-Wan asked, genuinely curious.

“When you told Qui-Gon that I’m dangerous.” Anakin tried to keep his trembling anger out of his voice, but wasn’t entirely successful.

Obi-Wan took care to choose his words carefully when he spoke. He would have to tread carefully. “The Force manifests itself in different ways to different Jedi. Ma--Qui-Gon is very attuned to the Living Force, which allows him to sense the present very strongly. However, I have a stronger connection with the Unifying Force, which allows me to have a greater sense of the future. What that means is that I often get visions of things that may come. As Qui-Gon reminds me, and will likely teach you, these visions are of possible futures and not necessarily what will happen, though in my experience they tend to be likely ones if the present circumstances remain unchanged.” He frowned slightly.

“I have had several visions of you, though I did not know it was you necessarily at the time. I saw you trying but struggling to find a niche among the Knight Corps, where Qui-Gon would see you one day if he has his way. I saw many things, and many of the are--not good, not for anybody. That’s why I think it would be dangerous for you to become a Padawan.” Obi-Wan paused, catching Anakin’s eyes. He was paying attention, but seemed a little shell shocked. 

“I’m going to pack up some of my things, if you would like a moment.” Obi-Wan stated as he slowly rose from the table, eating the last of his lightbread and pushing the extra square at Anakin. However, just as he rose from the table, he felt a tug on his arm. He looked back at Anakin questioningly.

“What would I do then, that was so bad?” Anakin questioned quietly. “And what would I do if I wasn’t a Jedi? Would I fix speeders or something?”

“Understand that my visions weren’t of you, Anakin, but merely one person you could become,” Obi-Wan evaded. “And I would suggest you talk to one of the Council Masters when you see them about the Corps. It’s not uncommon for them to take in older force sensitives that they find, like yourself, and they are better equipped to teaching you the parts of using the Force that would be useful to you. You would have a better chance at being able to free your mother there, especially if she is force sensitive.”

“Mom always knew when the Masters were going to be angry,” Anakin blurted. “And when we were getting sold. And she knew you and Master Qui-Gon were coming before you did.”

“She might be, then,” Obi-Wan mused, deciding that he would pass on the information to his oldest brother-padawan. Feemor would be in a better position to talk to the Corps than he was.

“Would I see her again if I went there?” Anakin asked in a small voice, “‘Cause I miss her, a lot, and I really want to see her.”

“I can’t promise anything, even if you do go.” Obi-Wan warned. “That wasn’t what I’d meant to talk to you about, though.”

“Oh?”Anakin asked. “What was it?”

“I’d wanted to know how you were settling in, and offer to bring you to the creche so that you could make friends with other force sensitives your age. And has anyone brought you to the Quartermaster’s yet? The clothes you used on Tatooine aren’t warm enough for Coruscant, and you could use a robe or a poncho at least to help keep warm.”

“And I wouldn’t have to give up my clothes?”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

‘Wizard!” Anakin grinned. “You all have the big cape things and they look really cool. I thought I’d like one of them if I’m going to be a Jedi!”

“Well,” Obi-Wan chuckled, “I do need to pack my things here. Would you mind helping? I’m sure there are some things among these that would suit you better than me. I do remember a few model spacecraft that could use a home...”

“Wizard!”

Anakin was more helpful in organizing and clearing Obi-Wan’s space than he had been expecting, and they were done in an hour. Several small items were left for Anakin, and Obi-Wan was wearing his spare robe as they trudged back towards the Quartermasters from Obi-Wan’s room assignment. Anakin spent most of the time they were walking telling Obi-Wan about his friends on Tatooine. It hit him for a moment that these people were likely all slaves as well, but he pushed it to the back of his mind to deal with when he didn’t have Anakin happily telling him about his previous life.

By the time they had reached the Quartermasters, Obi-Wan had decided to make sure that Anakin did not return to Tatooine. The stories he told were disturbing, but he knew that asking the Council to intervene on the behalf of the slaves was a fruitless goal. There were many injustices in the galaxy the Jedi couldn’t touch because they were no longer strong enough to take on the responsible parties on their own, and the Republic would not assist them. He made a pact with himself to see what he could do in his year away from the Temple, and also to ask Feemor what the Corps thought of such endeavors. 

When they finally reached the Supply levels, Obi-Wan didn’t bother with the on-duty Padawan before moving towards Quartermaster Sa-Toin’s office. Again when he reached the office, it was empty except for its user, who was glad to bring them to get a spare robe and blanket for Anakin. Obi-Wan’s long day was beginning to catch up to him, and he was grateful that Sa-Toin was able to engage Anakin for a short while. They soon departed for a quick meal, and then went back for Qui-Gon’s quarters. Anakin was yawning widely enough that Obi-Wan decided they both needed naps.

Obi-Wan felt his budding headache threaten to turn into a migraine when he felt Qui-Gon’s presence in the rooms. If he had had the space for Anakin in his shoebox he would have taken him there, but what little extra space he had was taken up by his recently-moved belongings. Still, he was not ready for this confrontation. He stopped at the end of the hallway ruffled Anakin’s hair. “Goodnight, Anakin,” he muttered.

Anakin tried to smile up at him, but a yawn broke the look. “Bye, Obi-Wan!” 

Obi-Wan turned and left before he could see Qui-Gon open the door for Anakin or look down the hall at him. He went back to the meditation garden where he’d found Seran and sat there deep in thought for long hours before going to sleep.

The next morning he collected his robe from the creche, and was conned into running a game of seek-and-find with younglings at the age equivalent of baseline human six or seven. He’d seen Seran from the corner of his eye, but the boy didn’t come up to him so he let it be. It was past noon when he finally had a moment to himself. After a meal of a decent mystery meat sandwich and mostly-not-wilted seasonal greens and reds, Obi-Wan checked himself into the salles.

Finding an empty corner of the main room, Obi-Wan unrolled the mat he had taken from the entrance and began a set of limbering stretches. He started feeling the stretches a quarter of the way through and thought wryly that while there were surely many planets that asked for Jedi aid, they didn’t necessarily provide the opportunities for a decent workout. 

He didn’t usually do moving meditations, but he was too wound up by the past few days to be a good sparring partner to anyone. Still, he made sure to smile at those he recognized as he dodged past them to find and claim a private room. Assuming the first stance of the first Niman kata, he shut his eyes and let himself fall into the Force.

He was only peripherally aware of his body’s movement as he went through several Niman kata, before unconsciously switching to Ataru, and then Soresu, and then Djem So as he explored what the Force was willing to show him. He was just about to switch back to Niman when a voice broke his trance.

“I see you are using your time wisely, Padawan.” Qui-Gon commented. “Though that is hardly your usual form. Are you trying something new?”

“It is useful to be able to incorporate the basics of other styles into my fighting style, it keeps people on their toes,” Obi-Wan replied. As well you know, Master. “Is Anakin here with you?”

Obi-Wan pushed down a spike of tired frustration as that didn’t get any noticeable reaction from Qui-Gon “No, I believe you mentioned visiting the creche to him? He’s currently with the Tra’cor Clan, I believe. They’re a couple years younger than him, but he needs to learn some of the lessons about the Temple that the younger initiates are taught.” 

“I see,” Obi-Wan mused. He wondered how Anakin would take to being lumped in with the younger initiates. He turned away from Qui-Gon to pick up his water bottle and start drinking.

“Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan hummed in response but didn’t turn around.

“Obi-Wan, you don’t have to say anything, but I hope that you are willing to listen.” Qui-Gon paused, and began again when Obi-Wan didn’t move. “I am just trying to do my best by the boy, in trying to integrate him into Temple life. I feel strongly that he has a future with the Jedi, and I am trying to support it as best I can.” He took a breath, staring at his padawan’s back. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to spend much time with you as this has been going on, though I am grateful that you are helping him.”

Qui-Gon paused again, meaningfully, but Obi-Wan ignored him. For all the blood rushing through his ears it was difficult to tune out Qui-Gon’s narrative. 

“I leave early tomorrow, so if I do not get to speak with you again before your Trials, please remember that you are a good Jedi, and will become a greater one than anyone, and that I’m proud of you.” 

Obi-Wan grunted as Qui-Gon turned and left. Why did the words that he had waited so long to hear taste so sour as they went down? He made himself unclench his white-knuckled hand from the water bottle, and reassumed one of the Ataru poses. It seemed that he had some more to work out than he had previously done.

\------------------

Two hours later, Obi-Wan returned to his room, put himself through the sonic, and crashed on the narrow bed. Despite how Qui-Gon had been treating him, he was still going to make sure to see them off.

Master Qui-Gon hadn’t been exaggerating when he said early, thought Obi-Wan, who was squinting against the dawn as he watched the Nubian vessel be fully boarded. Anakin and Qui-Gon were already on board, the younger having looked for Obi-Wan beforehand. Obi-Wan hoped that the mission was easy and finished quickly; for all that his first missions were dangerous, he had also been four years older at the time. He stayed there until the vessel was out of sight, and turned towards the meditation gardens. Later, he would go to the salles to wear himself out before he slept. The next day would bring his Trials, and the closer he got to them the more he began to worry.

It felt like no time at all had passed when he was donning the ceremonial robes. They had not heard from the Naboo-bound group, but that was only to be expected. They should still be in hyperspace, and thus unable to communicate. He tried to put them out of mind and focus on his Trials as he should, but it was difficult.

The Whites felt strange, and they were made of some kind of material he had never felt before, probably just as strong as the usual robes but much softer. He drew his hood over his head, allowing it to dip down in front of his face. He couldn’t see through the material, but the Force would guide him where he was going. 

Today, no one stopped him in the halls. The entire walk was somewhat surreal through the haze of the Force. For all that he had dreamt of being a Knight, he had not dwelled as much on the actual becoming. He easily made his way to the Council’s chambers. The door was open for him when he reached it, and all Council members were present. There was a slight darkness in the room that surprised Obi-Wan, one that he hadn’t sensed before, but that also felt quite old. 

“Knight Candidate,” Master Windu intoned in a loud, even tone. “You stand before this Council today because we have deemed you ready for the Trials of Knighthood. May any that disagree with our assessment speak now, or hold their peace.” There was a moment that would have been silence if not for the blood suddenly roaring in his ears before Windu continued. “Very well. Master Yoda?”

Obi-Wan turned slightly towards where Yoda would be sitting. “Yes, yes. Time, it is, for your meditations to begin,” Yoda said, somewhat cheerfully. “Follow me, you shall.”

There was apparently a door he had not seen worked into the wall of the Council chambers. He followed Yoda through it, and into a room that seemed to glow in the Force.

“Call to you any object in this room does?” Yoda asked.

Obi-Wan needed few moments to separate the Force signatures of the items from each other, and examine his Force sense. Some of the items were pure Light, a few were neutral, and the Darkness that had caught his attention was also somewhere in this room. He felt out each of the objects, and came up with two that seemed to call to his attention, but even those were not overwhelming calls. He relayed his thoughts back to Yoda.

“Interesting, this is. None shall you take this moment. Back here you will come, when ready for the final meditations you are.”

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan demurred, following Yoda back into the Council chambers. He didn’t feel how the door disappeared, but he was sure it had just as soon as they had cleared it.

“Ready, he is.” Yoda announced.

“Then, with this Council’s blessing, may the Force guide you in your initial meditations.” Windu intoned. 

Obi-Wan bowed and left. His feet took him to the waterfall in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He usually avoided that particular section, where Bruck had chosen to die a decade before, but today he felt drawn to it. Still, he settled down several feet away from the edge, and reached to the Force to begin his meditations.

He concentrated inwards at Its direction, slowly reliving the memory of that day. Bruck had been a child, hurt, as he had been, by the way the Masters always skipped over him. He had been low hanging fruit for Xanatos. He had also been a personal villain. Ever since then, Obi-Wan had had an inner voice that sounded a great deal like the long-dead initiate.

In a sense, just another person he couldn’t save. But he had also taught Obi-Wan that some people didn’t want to be saved. He’d thought that he had learned that lesson on Melida/Daan, when the Elders kept perpetuating the unknown conflict that destroyed the planet, but it had taken Bruck deciding to fall to his death to solidify it.

But Bruck was an old wound, and one that he had let close as the time passed. Xanatos as well, for all that he, at least, should have had greater maturity and ability to make such decisions. He had learned to let his heart heal by watching his Master’s continue to bleed for years after. 

It was thinking about Qui-Gon that hurt more. He had always wondered how much the man actually wanted him around, but he had come to know that Qui-Gon cared for him as much as he could, even if he was perpetually bad at showing it. Having met Master Dooku, and having heard about exactly what Xanatos did, Obi-Wan understood what had made the man what he was, even if he was determined to be different.

They had never had the closest relationship, for all that they made a decent team. In fact, sometimes Obi-Wan thought that if he had actually been as hide-bound and hoity-toity about the Code and the Jedi ways as people suggested he was, then he wouldn’t have survived half of the missions he was assigned to as a Padawan. It was just very easy for people to see him and compare his actions to Qui-Gon’s. If he was not willing to see things independently and act on them, then he may have died on Bandomeer, either in the mines or as a slave on the Deep Water Mining Platform. He would certainly have not left the Jedi to help put back together Melida/Daan.

But then, what kind of a Jedi did that make him? What kind of person? Moreover, what kind of a Jedi did he want to make himself? If he was going to be a Knight, then he would spend more time with only the guidance of the Force. Wasn’t that what the first year alone was about?

He let himself drift on that topic for a little while, drinking from a water bottle he had hidden in the pockets of the undercloak, and soaking in the sun and the noise of the fountains moving. Some time later, the Force nudged him, and he stood, stretching out his slightly stiff limbs, and walked back toward the Council chambers. He was a tad hungry, but he pushed it aside. He had eaten less for longer, and would eat again after the Trials were through. Besides, eating with cloth covering one’s entire face was a mite impractical. 

He entertained such idle musings through his trip to the Council chambers. He felt...not quite grounded after his extended meditations. This feeling lasted until he walked through the open chamber doors and stood again before the Council.

“Knight Candidate, I trust that your initial meditations are complete.” Mace Windu begun.

“Yes, Master.”

“Then we shall proceed to the next portion of your Trials. You will need to demonstrate your skill with a lightsaber. You also must demonstrate your ability to nurture young minds, as this is one of the privileges of Knighthood.” Windu continued.

“Teaches a class, Master Kostaranni does, of younglings. Niman, they are learning. For them, demonstrate you shall this form to them.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” Obi-Wan bowed, facing Yoda. “Masters,” he addressed the rest of the Council, before bowing again, facing Windu, before turning and leaving.

He reached the salles. He knew Master Kostaranni vaguely. She had been a field Jedi that focused on diplomacy concerning agriculture, and worked often with the Agricorps, who occasionally took teaching rotations. He had met her through Feemor once, when his brother padawan had not been close enough to support him and Master Jinn on a mission when he was seventeen. She had mostly interacted with his Master, leaving her padawan, a fourteen year old Mon Calamari who had reminded him of Reeft with her penchant for food, with him while they conducted business. She wasn’t hard to find, and had waved him over once she realized he was assigned to her.

The two hours that followed were grueling. Obi-Wan had always enjoyed creche duty to some extent, but he had not been around such a young group with lightsabers since he was so young himself. The entire experience was made even more interesting by his inability to see them as they haphazardly swung their deadly weapons. He was only glad this was a Niman class, and not a more aggressive style. Djem So would have been a nightmare. The most difficult part was the spar with what he figured out was a hologram, where he had had to use jar’kai to keep up, suitably aweing the children and taking several months off his life. After parting from them, he made his way back to the Council.

This time, the chambers were occupied, so Obi-Wan settled on a chair outside to wait. He tried to feel for the eddies of the Force. What was that strange Darkness at the heart of the Jedi Council? He couldn’t sense the objects that were hidden through the door, which obviously had some protection on it, but the Dark was still present. 

Of course there would never be no Darkness in the galaxy. What was Light without Dark, or Dark without Light? Neither held meaning, so the Force kept them in Balance through one way or another. Qui-Gon’s favored prophecy was only one potential source of Balance. But there were no groups that practiced in the Dark of the Force on Coruscant, for all that there were several groups the Jedi intentionally left alone elsewhere, so what caused this Dark?

He was forced to set aside the topic for future study when the doors opened to allow a pair of knights to exit, and Obi-Wan was ushered inside. 

“Went well, your lesson did,” Yoda mused. 

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan replied. 

“That is good to hear,” Windu cut in. “You have progressed to the final part of your Trials, the Final Meditations. Unlike the initial meditations, these take place inside the Chamber of Balance. There, you will see what the Force allows you to see, and face what It wishes you to face. First, though, we would like you to look at the objects we showed you before your initial meditations. You may feel more drawn to bring one or more of them with you this time.”

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan agreed, as was expected of him, before turning back in the direction of the door. Did the Darkness in the room shift just then? And then the doors were opened again, and Obi-Wan felt the Force signatures of the imbued objects flow over him anew. 

This time the draw to the objects was stronger. For all that he would have preferred to have been drawn to more neutral objects, it was those that were strongly Light or strongly Dark that called to him. He ended up picking up two, one Light and one Dark, and both of such strength in their elements that it made his skin crawl and his Force sense shrivel away from them. 

No comment was made when he and Yoda exited back to the main Council chambers about the objects he held, though there were several spikes of surprise in the Force. He bowed once more to the Council, and left. There were what he could only describe as footprints in the Force he knew he had to follow. An older male Quarren and a female human teenager were just outside the door, a Master-Padawan pair no doubt, who exchanged nods with him as he swept by. 

He followed the Force’s guidance deep into the lower levels of the Temple, levels that were closed off because of the dangers they represented to the unwary visitor. The Temple was built on an area that was strong in the Force, and it only got stronger the deeper he went. It was Darker here than on the higher levels. It was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t yet smothering, though he thought it could become so. 

He had to stop for a moment when a sharp bolt of pain shot up, through his body, starting from his feet and going to his arms. He stumbled, almost dropping the artefacts he held. The Light one, a heavy chalice made from some sort of unidentifiable metal, let out a blinding light before settling into a small glow. He waited for the pain to return, or the Dark artefact to react, but the lightweight square was silent. The glow died out as he began to walk again, somewhat more cautiously. 

He knew when he had reached the Chamber of Balance by the way the Force tingled and stopped, and by the bluish light of early evening that trickled into the room. The door closed behind him of its own accord, but he hardly noticed. He knelt in one of the circles inlaid on the ground, placed the two artefacts in front of him, and settled into a meditative position. 

He wondered idly why the Temple was built here, atop such Darkness as he drifted. For a time, he watched the Balance of Light and Dark in the Force. While the Jedi sought to eradicate the Sith, who had, again and again, disrupted the universe with their Darkness, they had not sought to eradicate the Dark itself until more recently.

Part of the thoughts that ran through his mind belonged to him, and part was revealed to him by the Force. But he still felt as if he was beginning. The Force, as if in agreement, bid him to pick up one of the artefacts. He reached for the chalice first, wanting the extra buffer of Light against the Dark. 

The Light came to him, easily and smoothly as it always did. Through the Light Unifying Force reached for him, with the Living Force, significantly more distant despite Qui-Gon’s teachings. He slipped into a vision deeper than he ever had before. He had a fleeting thought that he could become lost there, before all thought was wiped away.

The Light led to a terrible and consuming Darkness. He heard the echoed breaths of a thousand respirators all around him, before it settled into one. There was an impression of fire, of black plasteel, and of pain. It felt like he was suspended in that state for an age, before he came back to the Temple, and set down the chalice. 

He wanted to just breathe, and to wonder why the Light led him to such Darkness. But his body moved without his guidance, and instead of pulling away he found himself reaching for the lightweight Dark artefact.

The Darkness guided him to something that represented, for lack of a better word, an alternate universe. He sped through the lives of five people and their families. He belatedly realized that between them there were seven Jedi, and, peculiarly, they were all active members of various kinds of family groups. Their love was obvious and wholesome, and made him warm from feeling it secondhand. He had a moment of want as he watched that he acknowledged and let diffuse rather than purge. They looked happy, somehow. 

He tried to connect the pieces. They were Jedi who loved openly, who had partners and children that they sometimes left behind to go do the kinds of missions that Jedi were meant to do. Knights even, not just Corps members. He also didn’t get to muse on that for very long before he was pulled back into the Temple, the scent of baby powder still lingering in his nose. He picked up the chalice again, settling both on opposite knees, and let himself be guided further into the Force, more than he had ever gone before and possibly more than he would ever go again.

The visions the Force went beyond Obi-Wan’s considerable ability to put concepts and ideas into language. His head felt too small, battered from the inside out, but he knew that it was for him to keep watching, and that there were things he was meant to learn and take back to the Jedi once the Force released him.

He was not only a person, but also a messenger of the Force. It was the idea that he had to get what he learned to the Council and the Jedi at large that pushed him out of the Force’s grasp. He slumped slightly as he came back to himself. After his experience, the Chamber of Balance, which had seemed so overwhelming before, was almost muted to his senses. 

The chalice and the box, an unfinished holocron he now realized, were also soft to his senses. He held them as he levered himself off of the ground. He was almost lost, not at all sure what he was supposed to do. His mind was still clouded from processing the visions he had been shown. There was only one thing he was certain of: the Force had told him that the Jedi needed to change. At the core of that need, he was supernaturally certain, was the outdated rule against attachment.

There were some species that emoted in such a way where that was sensible, and perhaps those had survived their more emotional counterparts in the Jedi Ways during the Sith Wars, but the Order’s rules had to change with the changes in itself or it would breed more of the sorts of Darkness that it had sought to eradicate. Qel-Droma and Exar Kun had both been Fallen Jedi, after all, and they had sought to Turn as many Jedi as they could, knowing their abilities. The Lost Twenty were just the most famous losses over the many years, after all, and only among them were Masters who formally left. There were many others who had lost their ways over the millennium.

The Jedi were less combat-driven now, several thousand years later, and there was good reason to fear a resurgence of the Sith. They needed to be wary of such coming from within their own ranks, and guard against it, or else there would be another set of wars disrupting their hard-won and barely-kept peace.

Obi-Wan didn’t remember most of the trip back to the Council chambers. He stumbled inside, breathing unevenly. He consciously fought for control of his breathing as Yoda jumped off his seat and led him back to the vault room, where he placed the items back where they had come from. His mind cleared a little when the door shut and he was back in the Council chambers. 

“Jedi Kenobi,” Windu said. “Can you tell us what the Force showed you last?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, taking a deep breath. Somehow he found the words to speak of what he had seen, even the things he had not quite understood himself. The Council seemed to understand, or at least did not ask any questions.

Without further questions he was bid to kneel. Windu began to say something, probably reciting the Rites of Knighthood. The remnants of the Force that had swept him away were like cotton balls in his ears. He wondered if he had passed.

“...thus the Force has spoken, and thus it shall be,” Obi-Wan heard vaguely. The white hood was pushed back, and Obi-Wan kept his eyes shut against the sudden light. He heard a lightsaber buzz right next him, but the deed was done before he could pull away.

“This Council acknowledges Obi-Wan Kenobi as a Knight of the Jedi Order.” 

Obi-Wan’s senses fully returned to him as a frisson of shock tore through his system. Even despite all that had occurred, he hadn’t truly expected to become a Knight, no matter how many visions he had had of the future with him as a Knight or Master. The shock was chased with bittersweet joy. He had succeeded, but his Master wasn’t there to see it, and it was against his wishes in the first place.

He let himself feel those emotions for a long moment before banishing them to the Force, and stumbled as Windu stood to help him up. “Thank you,” Obi-Wan said softly as he bowed to the Council. 

“It is our pleasure, Knight Kenobi” Windu replied, smiling slightly. “May the Force be with you.”  
\------------------

Obi-Wan barely remembered leaving the Council chambers. He stopped by his room to change out of the Knight Candidates’ robes, into his more familiar assemblage of tans and browns. It was strange not to feel his long Padawan braid thumping at the back of his arm as he walked, and he felt at the burned section of hair several times as he walked to the commissary. 

He made it back to his room unmolested only because his friends were all offworld. He was sure he wasn’t going to hear the end of it once they heard about his Knighting, and that once he got back from the trial year there would be celebrations. It was early, but he had been awake the entirety of the previous night, so he quickly sank into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

The next day, he realized that he wasn’t sure about what mission or ship he wanted to take, and sought out Master Windu to ask for more time to decide. The man had smiled at him in that way that Obi-Wan knew other beings would be laughing, and told him that he could have a week. Thus, instead of spending the day with the datachips, Obi-Wan went to his favorite corner of the Room of a Thousand Fountains to meditate over what the Force had shown him.

At first, he wondered why the Dark had shown him such a Light future, and the Light such a Dark one, but he eventually realized that that description was wrong. The Jedi in the world the Dark had shown him were strong because of and with their emotions, not in spite of them. The Light vision was more piecemeal, but it also seemed to be encouraging emotion.

He began to pick at why emotion was so central to these futures. He also figured that that was going to be the subject of many meditation sessions to him, and, if he were lucky, not only his. The Council had much more leeway to make sweeping changes to the Order, provided that they came to the conclusion that such change was necessary. That was a conclusion that he was slowly but surely beginning to accept. 

He knew himself well enough to see what he was, what the Force had guided him to be. It seemed strange, but who was he to question the Force, if it had molded him solely to be an instrument of change for the Order? 

When he stopped by his room again, ostensibly to switch into his more threadbare cloak for going to the creche, he saw a note that he had missed in his tired state the last time he was there. A small piece of paper with a com code was lodged above his disused swipeboard. He tossed it onto the countertop and set off for the creche. If it was who he thought it was, he would get to it tomorrow.

Obi-Wan was waylaid as he entered the creche by the same crechemaster that he had left Seran with the other day. “Knight Kenobi,” ze chittered, “Many congratulations on your promotion. Young Seran would be glad to see you again.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan bowed. “Do you know where I might find him?”

“His clan’s younger members left for the meditation gardens an hour ago.”

“Many thanks,” Obi-Wan smiled. “I think I will join them there.”

“May the Force light your steps, Knight Kenobi.”

“And yours, Master.”

He searched for the young Torguta in the Force, and followed the trace to a floor just below the level that held most of the meditation gardens. He smiled as he realized which garden the boy was in. He made sure not to open the door too wide as he walked in: the tookas didn’t need any more help with escaping the garden. 

He found Seran huddled up against a pair of silkleaf bushes with a family of lothcats and another Togruta youngling. They both looked up as he approached. “Obi-Wan!” Seran whisper-shouted delightedly. 

“It’s good to see you again, Seran,” Obi-Wan couldn’t keep a smile off his face. “And your friends here. Would you mind if I joined you?”

“Master Obi!” Seran bubbled. “This is Ahoka, she is from the same place as me!”

“Ahsoka, Seran,” the older girl corrected him gently, before looking up at Obi-Wan. The Force slid around her excitedly for a moment before settling down. “Hi, Master,” she said.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan replied. “I see you’ve found the liveliest garden in the Temple.”

“The tookas are cute!” Ahsoka said, petting the one in her lap. “I like them a lot.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that Seran has someone looking out for him.” Obi-Wan rubbed at his hair. 

“Of course! I won’t let anyone be mean to him any more.” she promised boldly.

“That’s very good,” Obi-Wan agreed, searching for the best way to phrase his thoughts. “Because I’m going to be away for a while, and I was hoping you could take care of him while I’m gone.”

“You’re leaving Master Obi?” Seran said, pouting.

“Only for a little while, youngling, I have a mission.”

“But he’s going to come back,” Ahsoka smiled at Seran.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agrees.

“But he’ll play with the tookas with us first, won’t you, Master?” Ahsoka grinned.

Obi-Wan laughed, and reached out in the Living Force to one of the shyer animals. “Of course.”

\------------------

Two evenings later, he set himself up at the low seats by the kitchen and plugged the code into his comm. It beeped several times before the call was picked up. Obi-Wan should have been less surprised than he was to see Qui-Gon on the other end. “Hello,” he said, somewhat lamely.

“It’s good to see you, Padawan,” he smiled. “Though, judging by the state of your hair, that’s not quite true anymore, is it.”

“No, Master,” Obi-Wan replied automatically.

“I apologize for not having been there for the Final Report in the Council chambers.”

Obi-Wan cracked a smile. “You were always the untraditional one.”

“Even so,” Qui-Gon smiled as well. “Congratulations, Knight Kenobi.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Qui-Gon’s eyes twinkled in the com’s light. “Have you decided what your first mission will be?”

“I was actually hoping to speak with Anakin,” Obi-Wan said cautiously. “I submitted the documentation this morning, and I’m going to be heading out to the Outer Rim for a while.” Qui-Gon made a noise, but Obi-Wan continued. “I was wondering if he had any messages I might be able to pass on if I go near Tatooine.”

“I’ll ask him, and send a data packet when it’s daylight here,” Qui-Gon assured him, with a diplomat’s straight face.

Obi-Wan felt his face try to freeze to match, before he forced that instinct away. He liked his oldest brother padawan, but he wanted to have a better relationship to Qui-Gon than Feemor had, even with what Qui-Gon had done. “Just ask, Master.” Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon took a moment to consider his words. “I haven’t been a very good Master to you lately, have I?”

Obi-Wan stayed silent for the heartbeat it took Qui-Gon to follow that up with “No, don’t say anything, I have been inconsiderate again.”

“It’s your way, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m surely used to it by now.”

Qui-Gon’s face twisted, and he said, “You shouldn’t be, and if you are then I am a poorer Master than I had feared.” He took a quick breath while Obi-Wan was searching for words and said “I know you’ve been talking to Anakin about the Exploration Corps. Do you truly think that it would be a better option for him?”

“Quite possibly,” Obi-Wan said as gently as he could. “Everything I told him was true. They do have more experience with those who Force Sensitive but not raised in the Temple, and he would have more freedoms there. He is young enough yet that he could learn, but he’s older than his years, as those raised in slavery usually are.”

“I look at him and see so much potential,” Qui-Gon mused.

“That potential is there,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “But it might not be for the path of Jedi Knight.”

“You were very insistent that you would be a Knight, once, and nothing else.”

“I had always been connected to the Unifying Force,” Obi-Wan rebutted. “I knew my path. But I was never put with my yearmates who were shoo-ins for padawanships. I saw, more than most, the other younglings who wanted to be Knights, for whom it wasn’t meant to be, and those who didn’t want that path at all.”

“You’re saying you want me to let Anakin choose his own path, as all living beings should.” Qui-Gon suddenly chuckled. “You’ve turned into quite the negotiator, Obi-Wan. Outwitting your old Master like this.”

“Not so old, Master.” 

“Of course not,” Qui-Gon said. “I should go, as it’s quite late here and this may be my last chance to rest before the negotiations.”

“Of course, Master. Have a short talk.”

“You would hope so, my dear Knight.” The holo froze on Qui-Gon’s face, a clear sign of his departure. Obi-Wan put the comm back on the table, and prepared for bed. He would pick out a ship in the morning, and prepare to put his things in storage, as well as outfit himself for the Outer Rim. He would have to ask Anakin which currencies would be acceptable in advance, lest he find himself in a pod race of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I know this is very late and I'm so sorry x-x. It's not all beta'd, so there may be errors, for which I apologize. I hope it was worth the wait!


End file.
